


White Room

by imaginary_golux



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hades tries hard to make his wife happy; and sometimes he succeeds beyond his expectations.  Written for Porn Battle XII.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Room

It is always dark in the underworld; lamps and candles help only a little, and there is no sun and no moon. Even in Elysium, where there is golden light that never flags, the darkness presses in. Persephone is a creature of sunshine and summer; the unrelenting blackness of the underworld weighs on her, makes her slow and sad and cruel.

And Hades, who loves her, builds a room all of white marble and studs the walls with diamonds and many-colored opals and all the gems of his dark realm, and in the center of it sets an ever-burning fire; and this room he gives to his summerborn wife for her own, for always and forever.

Persephone adores it. She dances in her light-filled room, laughs in it, rejoices in it; and because she loves her husband, strange as that may seem, that night she brings him to the marble room and makes love to him, joyful and joyous as only the summer’s queen can be. Hades has bedded his beautiful wife before – has even made love to her before, for they do love each other and have for more years than mortals live. But he has never before seen her so, with the firelight caught in her hair and her breasts bouncing as she rides him. He has never seen her laugh so before, as she bends to kiss his waiting mouth and twine her tanned fingers with his own pale ones.

He loves her, and he is glad to see her so happy, and gladder still that she should share this with him, this joy in light and warmth and love, this unexpected sensuality: long lazy kisses by the fire, and gentle hands stroking over every inch of him, and her long preening stretch which welcomes his own hands. He strokes her gently, glutting himself on touch, until she moans and trembles under his hands, and because he loves to see her so, he brings her to the brink and over, once, twice, thrice, until she pins his hands to the bearskin rug and laughs against his throat and kisses him.

It is always dark in the underworld, but there is one room where the king of the dead and his summerborn queen can laugh and play together in unending light, and Persephone, in her wisdom, has named that room. She has named it Love.


End file.
